


It's Not A Lie, My Love, If They Believe You

by Everyday_Im_Preaching



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, Prompt Fic, Rumors, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 14:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyday_Im_Preaching/pseuds/Everyday_Im_Preaching
Summary: Everyone believes that House and Wilson are a couple--except for the pair themselves. But the hospital is always alight with rumours. To assume there's anymore truth to this one than the others is ridiculous.Or is it?





	It's Not A Lie, My Love, If They Believe You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first House fic, and also my first Hilson fic--if you find yourself enjoying it by the end of it, I'd love to hear from you in the comments below! It helps inspire and motivate me to write more!
> 
> This was based off a prompt from an anonymous user on Tumblr that I loved: 
> 
> Hilson prompt. instead of the usual trope of nobody believing they're in a relationship, all of House and Wilson's coworkers are convinced they ARE together and don't believe when they say otherwise."

 

 

“Good morning, my little doves,” House greeted as he entered the room, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. Everyone looked up from their respective cups of coffee and snickered. House paused. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing. Just noticed that Wilson was wearing that tie you hate again,” Chase teased, flipping through a file in his hands. “You two get into a fight again?” 

House turned toward Chase, thinking of what to say in response.  “I would ask what you’re talking about, but I don’t think I want to know.” He hobbled over to the coffee machine. “And I don’t hate it. The shade of blue just doesn’t work with his eyes. Teal is a much better colour for him.” 

“Come on House,” Foreman teased, shaking his head. “You don’t have to hide your relationship with Wilson from us. We all know you’re together.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you idiots that we’re not together,” House muttered under his breath, finally finding the sugar, never where it belonged anymore. “Never were, never will be.” 

Even Cameron snorted at that. “You’re not fooling anyone.” 

“I never had the intention—do any of you have work to do? Or are you just lollygagging to annoy me?” He poured himself a coffee and pulled out his bottle of vicodin. He’d taken some as soon as he’d arrived, but the pain in his leg hadn’t eased at all. They hadn’t moved from their seats, so he turned to face them. “Did anyone hear me? Let me ask again: do any of you have work to do?”

They scattered then, off to do who knows what. House took a sip of his coffee and winced at both the heat and lack of sweetness.  He added more sugar, took another sip, and then wandered off to find Wilson. 

“Wilson,” House popped his head into the exam room. He looked over at the patient, and then back at Wilson. “Got a minute?” He was pushing into the room before Wilson answered, taking a sip of his coffee. He lifted part of his hand to wave at the patient. “Hey.” 

“I’m with a patient,” Wilson pointed out, though there was no sincerity in his voice.

“I’m sorry honey, it’s just. You know I miss you so much when we’re not together,” House quipped. The patients eyes darted between the two of them, but remained silent. “The three amigos are saying we’re a couple. Because you’re wearing this.” House set his coffee down, and then tugged at Wilson’s tie. His hand was swatted away. House frowned at it and cocked his head. “Because I hate it. I do, but that isn’t the point—you didn’t wear it today just because I hate it, did you? Because then I would be inclined to believe you have a crush on me.”

Wilson took a deep breath. “I’m wearing this tie, because it’s a tie, House. And I like it.” 

“So you  _ are  _ wearing it because I hate it. That’s a shocker. Don’t tell me you believe the rumours too.” He moved to the other side of Wilson. “You can’t just pretend to be in a relationship with me. There’s a thing called consent.” He looked at the patient sitting on the exam table and gave them  a wry smile. “What are you in for today?”

“House, can we talk about this later?” Wilson asked, giving him a side-eye that reminded him a tad too much of Cuddy. “I’m busy.” 

House considered it, and then nodded. “Well, when you become un-busy, then I will be in exam room one. Napping. Or in my exam room,  _ also  _ napping.” He stumbled back past Wilson, pausing when a hand grabbed at his arm. Wilson met House’s eyes, and gave him a small smile. 

“I’m not mad,” Wilson told him softly. “At you. Or anything.” 

“I didn’t think you were,” House told him after a moment of silence. The patient coughed, and Wilson let House go. House turned toward the man on the exam table. “Get some cough medicine and go home. It only  _ feels  _ like you’re dying.” He then limped out as quickly as he could, making sure to slam the door behind him as he went. 

 

It was lunchtime, when Cuddy approached him. He’d just finished and had a coffee cup firmly grasped in one hand and his cane in the other.

“Kiss and make up with Wilson?” 

House took a deep, exasperated breath and then let it out. He tilted his head toward Cuddy, but didn’t turn around. “Yes. We made out in front of the patient, and he told me how much he loved my eyes.” He limped forward, but Cuddy followed behind quickly. “What do you want?” 

Cuddy was at his elbow, looking unimpressed. “What are you two fighting about?”

“We aren’t fighting,” House told her, turning a corner. “Don’t tell me you believe this bull crap. Young tongues like to wag. Spread lies.” He tapped his cane on the floor and then looked down at it. “Why does everyone care about who I’m having sex with anyway? Don’t they have more important things to do? Like their jobs?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Cuddy told him, shaking her head. “I think they just want to support you. Know that…that it’s okay, to be with him. I don’t know why, but they like you.” She laid a hand on his arm. He stopped and sighed, knowing what was coming next. “I support you. You deserve to be happy.”

House pursed his lips together and nodded. And then he was off, heading back toward his office. As he reached it, he saw that Wilson was already seated inside, looking through a case file. House took a deep breath and then pushed inside. 

“Hello, darling,” House greeted, limping toward his seat. Wilson looked up at him, unamused. “How’s work been? Want to talk about it over dinner?”

“Depends, where, and are you buying?” Wilson asked. There was a smile on his face. House smiled back at him. “Cameron pulled me aside today, wanted to ask how I was doing. What we were fighting about.” 

“Oh my god, she got to you too?” House took his seat with a relieved groan. He pulled his Vicodin from his pocket, shaking a pill out. He swallowed it dry, and then tucked the bottle back away. “Cuddy pulled me aside to tell me that she supports us. Apparently, we’re just both closeted because we don’t think our co-workers will accept our relationship.” 

Wilson snorted and settled back in his chair, finally closing the file in his lap. “Oh, right. That’s what’s holding us back. We’re just scared of the world’s opinion.” He folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t think you were scared of anything. Let alone being gay.” 

“It’s just so hard to come out,” House responded, leaning back in his chair to match Wilson. He pulled his drawer open and grabbed a bag of chips he’d stashed in there the evening before. He popped it open, and then offered some to Wilson, who took a few. “I mean, you’re obviously not really a stud at all, are you? You’re a fake rake, using the women you’ve supposedly slept with as a cover for the fact that you really, really like men.” He spun his cane idly. “What do you say, Wilson? Want to take the day off early, have some make-up sex? I’m sure Cuddy would understand.”

“You know, some of us like our job,” Wilson answered. “And, no. You take vicodin like candy. It can lower libido—I don’t know if you’d be able to keep up.” 

“See, this is what we’re fighting about. You’re always so snide and insulting. Cruel to me. You’re obviously only in this because you’ve got a weird fetish for cripples.” He paused in where he’d began to turn his chair side to side, not quite spinning. “What was bothering you this morning, anyway? Did Cameron get to you before I did?”

Wilson shifted and coughed, uncomfortable at the question. 

“Oh, either she did, and she was really blunt about it, or you’re thinking about hiding something from me.” He set his cane aside, so he could balance his elbows on the desk. “Don’t hide things from me, honey. We can work it out. I still believe in us.”

“Cut the act, House,” Wilson muttered. He closed his eyes. “If you’re going to call me pet names, at least make it convincing.” 

House got out of his seat, using the desk just long enough that he could grab his cane. Wilson went to get up as well, but House swung his cane around to tap at his legs. “Sit. Stay. Tell me what’s going on.” He was standing in front of Wilson now. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth and then let it pop free. “James.”

“Nothing is going on,” Wilson replied, defensive in both tone and posture. “Why do you feel the need to poke around in my life anyway? You have enough drama on your own.”

“Because we’re friends. Best friends. Have been, for years. And whatever is bothering you, is bothering me.” He leaned against the desk, letting his cane drop. 

“How chivalrous,” Wilson muttered. 

“Is it a woman?” House asked. Wilson shook his head. “A man?” Wilson hesitated, and House saw him chew on his cheek. “It is a man. Is it me? Be honest. I can handle a little crush.” House’s stomach flipped at the admittance, but he remained stoic. As stoic as he could be around Wilson, anyhow.

Wilson looked up at him with that  _ look.  _ That puppy-dog, ‘don’t make me do this’ look that he only adopted in serious situations.  _ Personal  _ situations. House let out a hum, wondering if it  _ was  _ him. Was he actually upset with him? It happened often enough. 

“Well, if you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to,” House told him after a moment of thought.  “I’m not going to force it out of you. But you’ll tell me.” He stared at the door and clicked his tongue. 

A sigh left Wilson and then he stood. The file in Wilson’s hand was tossed on House’s desk; he then proceeded to go around the room, shutting the blinds. He hesitated at the door, and then locked it. House watched with interest.

“I don’t think that people can hear through the blinds,” House pointed out. 

“I’m not worried about people hearing us. I’m worried about them seeing us,” Wilson wiped his hands on his lab coat and took a deep breath. “I think, that…House,” He ran a hand through his hair—and then reached forward. House found his cane knocked out of his hand, and then fists were wrapping into the collar of his jacket. He reached up to grab at Wilson’s hands, but paused when lips closed over his. Wilson was  _ kissing  _ him. Hard. Desperate. 

He pulled away, staring House in the eye. House blinked, and his eyes swept from side to side. Wilson’s hands slowly unclenched from his jacket, and he nodded in resignation. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now, can we talk about something else—”

It was House’s turn to surprise Wilson. “—you should kiss me again. I don’t know if you got your point across the first time.” Wilson’s eyes darted down to House’s mouth, and then back up to his eyes. “What are you waiting for? Door’s locked, shades are drawn. You can have you way with me all you’d like.”

“Are…are you okay with that?” Wilson asked dumbly. 

House inclined his head in an accepting nod. “I don’t see why not. There are…office rumours for a reason. You don’t think that they just saw the two of us and thought we looked nice together, did you?” 

Wilson was shaking his head in disbelief, but his fingers were crawling up to cup House’s face. “Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?” He kissed House again, lips wet and chaste. House felt a shiver run through him at the gentle touch. 

“Because it’s easier than telling your best friend you want him to fuck you,” House replied—Wilson took his open mouth as an invitation, pressing his tongue forward. House grunted and wrapped an arm around Wilson’s side, tugging him close. “I would have gotten around to it eventually. But you beat me to it.”

This had Wilson laughing and pressing his forehead against House’s shoulder. “You would never have had the balls,” Wilson accused. “Was that dinner still on the table?”

“Sure thing,” House told him. He rose a hand to card it through Wilson’s hair, only briefly, because the man was standing up. “So is the make-up sex that is no longer make-up sex.” He looked over at his cane, which had fallen to the floor. “Well, might be make-up sex, if you don’t get me my cane.”

Wilson rolled his eyes but fetched it, handing it back to its owner. House took it  _ almost  _ gratefully—Wilson snuck a hand around House’s waist affectionately and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Pick me up at seven, I’ll wear my best lingerie,” Wilson told him with a wink. 

“The red set?” House asked, not looking at him. Wilson snorted as he unlocked the door. “Go on, get back to saving people’s lives.” The door shut silently, and House hobbled over to his desk, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. His mouth hurt, slightly, from how rough the first kiss had been, but his body was alive with the aftermath. He collapsed back into his desk chair and let out a thoughtful sigh, staring at his cane. 

“Dinner. We’re going to have dinner,” House muttered to it, as if it was a person who could give him advice. He gave it a cheerful spin. House looked at his desk phone and then back at his cane. He still had time to make a reservation—somewhere nice. Wilson deserved somewhere nice, especially if he was going with  _ House.  _ Something had to make up for the fact that his date was crippled. 

House looked at phone for a moment, almost regretful. He then picked it up and dialled an all-too familiar extension. The person on the other line answered briskly.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, Cuddy—you know that fight Wilson and I were having? Well, I want to take him somewhere nice to make up for it. Any suggestions?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Welcome to the end!
> 
> Song(s) for this fic:  
> Spirit In The Sky by Norman Greenbaum  
> More Than A Feeling by Boston
> 
>  
> 
> Want to stay updated? Want to chat or shoot me a prompt? Have an idea that you'd like me to consider for this pairing? Feel free to click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to do all these things and more!


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